


Funding Neptune

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Family Dinners, Fluff, Humor, I Don't Even Know, Italy, Jensen is a Sap, Kissing, M/M, Mild Smut, Neck Kissing, Neckz 'n' Throats, Public Display of Affection, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6966610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solo panels, piece of cake.<br/>Duo panels with Misha Collins...<br/>Try a gluten-free baklava sliced PB&J-style and served to every homeless person in or around the L.A. area.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funding Neptune

 

Like a fresh patch of Laffy Taffy, the whole "audience of one" concept stretches beyond its sugarcoated meaning for Jensen Ackles.

When it comes to hosting a forty minute panel, Jensen's... well, he feels like he's up Jackson Hole with a paddle and a Polaroid, balancing the act (art?) of keeping his head above the constant love and affection pouring through, and capturing every crucial moment in-between, but he handles it. In fact, he devours it. It's overwhelming, but, unlike Daniela's famous apple juice, an _overpour_ of low fat, sugared down sweetness.

Solo panels, piece of cake.   
Duo panels with Misha Collins...  
Try a gluten-free baklava sliced PB&J-style and served to every homeless person in or around the L.A. area.

Jensen's eyes, once two spacious earths adopting the personalities of everyone in the room, now lock their sights on Neptune. Earth and Neptune. Two planets 2.7 billion miles away. Misha alone is undiscovered planet filled with untapped resource and external colors blinding to the human perspective; add the fact he's 80% hydrogen, breathing life into Jensen's overtapped oxygen, and 19% helium, which basically slashes circulation in his upstairs _and_ downstairs brain, and you've got a dangerous space exploration.

Well, except it's a little more than exploration... and there isn't an illusion of space anywhere between the wall of the colosseum and Jensen's back.

"Fucking hell, Mish . . . if you don't stop that—"

"What's the matter, Jackles?" Misha asks, mouth sinking into his neck like a crane in a claw machine, expertly closing in around its prize. Jensen throws his head back, biting back a river of curse words. Misha's mouth is warm, wet, magnetic; like a vacuum, sucking all the words from his windpipe. "Can't hold your _influence_?"

Those words send a direct command from Jensen's hand to his crotch. Misha's lips attack his bruised and abused mouth again until Jensen's body swells with the colors of Misha’s pride, and keeps going. Jensen's other hand tangles with Misha's hair, pulling him impossibly closer until his hardness clashes with the back of Jensen's hand. Jensen breaks away from the slapping of tongues and teeth and straight thirty minutes of uninterrupted programming for Jensen to pull out, giving Misha front row seats to a private show.

" _Oh my God."_

"What's-uh-what's up?" asks Jensen between ragged pants.                                                  

" _You_ ," Misha emphasizes, hiding the swell of lust in his eyes by gripping the base of Jensen's shoulders, letting him ride through the orgasm that sneaks up on him. After a year or two of proper practice, it’s become a low, hissing growl reserved only for the man keeping him in a loose embrace. "God, you're so gorgeous. You should see yourself; I might just take a picture."

Sweaty and slick-spit, no thanks to Misha, Jensen collapses onto his neck, murmuring, "Please don't."

"No promises."

“Mish—”

“Why not?” he laughs, kissing behind Jensen’s ear, his temple, his forehead, hairline—“We’re already publically indecent.”

“Yeah, but then we’d have _proof_ of public indecency.”

“When has proof of illegal actions _ever_ stopped me?”

Instead of trying to logic Misha, Jensen drags his newly unoccupied fingers over his mouth and pushes in until the mail slot unsticks, granting the flood of ink-stained words pouring in. Jensen’s not one for articulation unless it’s sung, and even then those aren’t _his_ words, not really, anyway, but he knows when it comes to Misha, all he really has to do to get him to listen is look at him. The kissing is confirmation of every shy smile, every stolen glance, every physical aspect about their relationship that isn’t sexual…

Misha pushes him out of his comfort zone, and for someone who, once upon a time, could barely maintain eye contact with the vortex in his coffee cup, Jensen has to thank him somehow.

“We should get back to dinner.”

“I thought we were skipping to dessert.”

“ _Jensen—”_

 _“_ Okay, alright, no need to get your panties in a twist.”

“Too late for that,” Misha grits out as Jensen giggles, famously slinging his arm around his shoulders. Misha’s naturally sweet aroma practically clings to Jensen now, which, with their combined smells, probably smells more or less like someone sprayed concentrated fruit on a pine tree oozing sap, but he couldn’t possibly care less when Misha leans his head forward like the _actual_ sap he is.

“Where were you guys?” Jared bombards when they walk back into their reserved room. “We’ve thought ya’ll went to the bathroom or something. We’ve gotta take the family photo, I got my camera ready and everything, you know, ‘cos it’s not like I’m _grandfathered_ into my plan or anything—” Jared stops, drinking in the flag draped around Jensen’s neck, and a smile softens and stretches across his face easier than Laffy Taffy. “Christ, couldn’t hold your influence, huh?”

“ _That’s what I said!”_

“Alright, okay,” Jensen barks, even though it comes out a squeak. It’s bad enough having one person gang up on you in a dark alley, but having he _and_ your best friend holding you down while you’re screaming? “You chose your side, Brutus, can we take the fucking picture?”

The lighting is a little dark, and the people nearer to the back, i.e. Jensen and Misha, look a little faded, but that’s okay, because Misha probably doesn’t want his face on the front page when Jensen’s stroking his leg underneath the table.

Two planets 2.7 billion miles away. Misha alone is undiscovered planet filled with untapped resource and external colors blinding to the human perspective; add the fact he's 80% hydrogen, breathing life into Jensen's overtapped oxygen, and 19% helium, which basically slashes circulation in his upstairs and downstairs brain, and you've got a dangerous space exploration.

Luckily, Jensen has plenty of oxygen left in his tank.


End file.
